


Head Start

by Lady Divine Coldflash (fhartz91)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Divorce, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6965998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine%20Coldflash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry and Leonard are taking the last step in becoming exes, but saying goodbye isn't easy, especially since they're still in love.</p><p>But sometimes, being in love just isn't enough.</p><p>Written by anon request from AU text post on tumblr - #50. going through a divorce au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head Start

“So, I guess that’s everything,” Barry says, taking one last walk through the living room of the split level house he’s lived in the past five years. Technically, it’s _their_ house – his and his husband’s.

But not anymore.

No longer their house.

No longer husbands.

“I don’t see a single speck of anything that belongs to either one of us.” Barry turns when he hears heavy footsteps enter from down the hall. “Except for that broken coffee machine under the sink, but that was there when we moved in.”

“Would be a shame to take it,” Len comments, “seeing as this is its natural habitat and all.”

“So that’s that,” Barry continues, trying to act impervious to his ex-husband’s charm. “We’re good to leave. Unless you want to go over it once last time?”

“I trust you.” Len stops, keeping the entire living room between them. “If _you_ can’t find it, it’s not there to be found.”

Barry slips, smiling at Len’s compliment. Len has a hundred of those, and he’s showered Barry with them from day one. Len seems to do it so easily where Barry is concerned - everything from the way he parts his hair, to his habit of constantly wearing Converse sneakers, no matter what the outfit, no matter what the occasion. Len was one of the few people to ever notice that Barry has an honest obsession, owning close to fifty pairs of them. Things that guys down at the precinct ribbed Barry over endlessly, Len found endearing. It’s one of the reasons why they fit so well together. Len’s rough edges meshed seamlessly with Barry’s smooth ones. No one knew exactly how they did it. It wasn’t conscious, it just sort of happened.

Tearing those edges apart was one of the hardest things Len has ever watch Barry do. Part of him doesn’t want to forgive him. Part of him understands that Barry feels there is no other way.

“Here, before I forget, let me give you my key.” Len reaches into his pocket and pulls out his key ring. There are only two keys on it, and they both belong to this house. Being married to Barry is the longest Len has been settled in one place since his childhood. Up till now, it’s been the biggest rush of his life. With Barry being the Flash, and Len getting caught up in the excitement of marrying a superhero, he was almost able to stay on the straight and narrow.

 _Almost_.

He takes a step forward, hand outstretched, with the key ring dangling from his index finger. Barry closes the distance, nine strides total in the space of a millisecond. Watching Barry use his powers so effortlessly, the speed force so much a part of him, takes Len’s breath away.

It did the first time he saw it, after Barry foiled his attempt to steal that stupid Kahndaq Dynasty diamond. It still does.

Reaching for the key, Barry’s fingers subconsciously wrap around Len’s, and their eyes meet. The living room they’re in, empty of furniture, bereft of pictures and the little trinkets and knick-knacks that they had collected together, the things that were a testament to their relationship – every trip they’d taken, every anniversary, every birthday - feels larger than it did when they moved in. But without those objects to fill up the space, the only thing occupying it now is tension, thick with all the feelings they ever had for one another, the joys and the sadnesses they shared. It’s too much to ignore, too important to deny.

It needs to be acknowledged one last time.

Len grabs the lapels of Barry’s sports coat and pushes him up against the wall, but Barry goes in for the first kiss. They don’t say a thing, don’t ask if it’s alright, don’t ask if this is really what they want. They are so far past words, nothing they can think of would matter anymore.

Not if Barry told Len to stop, which he doesn’t want.

Not if Len admitted that if they do this, he won’t be able to leave, which he can’t promise.

This is the last moment like this they’ll ever share. Anything they say right now will only ruin it.

Barry doesn’t want to pull away from Len’s mouth, but he needs to in order to turn around; Len’s hands fumbling with his fly a silent signal that they both know well. It’s done in haste, jeans shoved down around knees, incidental things like lube and condoms either rushed through or ignored, and then Len’s inside him, holding him with his arms looped under Barry’s arms, his hands on his shoulders. He takes Barry hard, knowing it’s not going to last this way, but nothing will. Nothing does.

This could last for seconds or for days. It makes no difference. When it’s over, it’s over.

Len holds Barry tighter and tighter, as if he’s trying to absorb him. The best parts of himself, he’s leaving with Barry. That’s what his husband got in the divorce. No money, nothing tangible. When Len goes, he’s leaving behind his kindness, his compassion, his humanity, and his honesty. Barry has always had possession of his heart. Len hasn’t come to grips yet with how he’s going to live without it.

“Barry,” Len moans. “God, Barry. Oh, God…”

Len squeezes Barry’s shoulders till they bruise, and Barry’s nails rake down the corner molding as he cums, leaving grooves in the wood that his blurry mind knows he’ll have to point out to the realtor, and that’s the thought that snaps Barry’s neck.

“God,” Len breathes against his ex-husband’s ear. “We were always so good at this.”

“Yeah,” Barry agrees, taking a step to the side, needing to break away from his ex before Len finds a way to draw him back in again. They’ve been putting this off for the last few weeks. Barry can’t let it go on any longer.

“Why are we doing this?” Len asks for the hundredth time as he watches Barry zip up his jeans. “Why are we splittin’ up?”

Rationally, Len knows why. That’s not what he’s actually asking. What he’s asking Barry, _begging_ him is _please. Please don’t go. Find a way to work this out_. Len can’t do it. He can’t come up with a solution. He’s a smart guy, an excellent strategist, but he doesn’t have the capacity to solve this riddle. He can’t travel through time, cross dimensions the way Barry does, and that’s what Len feels is necessary to cure them - a brain that can conquer all of that can find a way to keep them together.

He needs Barry to figure out a way.

He’s sure that Barry’s tried, during those long, sleepless nights when he would go out for a run and not come back till morning so they wouldn’t spend the night in the same bed together.

So that they couldn’t be intimate, and make leaving that much more unbearable.

“Because I have a job to do,” Barry says, somewhat coldly. It’s an act, but he’s getting better at it. “I’m the Flash. It’s my job to protect the people of Central City. And you…” Barry shakes his head, so beyond despair he seems almost emotionless. “You chose the wrong side.” Barry sighs. He’s waited long enough for Len to denounce his profession completely and promise to do right by them both to know that it’s not going to happen. And Barry is tired of waiting. “Do you need me to drop you off somewhere?” he asks. “The train station or…”

A car screeches up to the front of the house, engine tick-tick-ticking like it’s about to explode. Two impatient taps on the horn and Len chuckles to himself. Mick Rory’s timing, as always, is impeccable.

“That’s okay,” he says. “I’ve got it covered.”

A bizarre cacophony of noises irritates the peaceful calm of the suburban cul-de-sac outside - the squeaky whine of a metal car door, heavy footsteps rushing up the porch stairs, and a loud knock rattling the front door, all heralding Leonard Snart’s inevitable egress.

“Come on, Snart,” a rough voice whisper-yells through the frame. “Let’s go.”

Len heads for the door, hand reaching for the knob, preparing to block Barry out for good. But since, after this, he might only get the chance to talk to Barry as _the Flash_ , through police negotiations and prison telephones, he needs to know, “Why are you lettin’ me go, Barry? You know what we’re planning on doin’. You could just run us both down to CCPD right now. Be even more of a hero.”

“Yeah,” Barry agrees. “I could. But let’s just say I’m giving you a head start. For old time’s sake.”

Len nods. “Thanks, Barry.”

Barry watches Len open the door, to leave for the last time. Barry catches sight of an older, balding man, taking a step back on the porch.

Barry memorizes his face, just in case.

“And Len?”

“Yeah, Bare?”

Barry swallows hard. He wishes he didn’t have to do this, but Len has given him no choice. For the safety of everyone in his city…no, for the safety of this man that he still loves so damn much, he has to.

“Don’t come back,” Barry says, his voice catching when he wishes to God he could just play the part of stoic protector the way Oliver does – detached, heartless. “One step over county line, and I’ll have to take you in. That’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”

Len smiles. It’s smug, self-assured, and everything Barry loves about Leonard Snart. But there’s pain there, too, hiding in the quivering corners of his lips, and the shimmer of his icy blue eyes.

“Oh, Barry Allen,” he says, crossing the barrier from lover to nemesis. “My dear, sweet, naïve Barry Allen. You’ll have to catch me first.”

Len walks out the door, not bothering to shut it, and races to the car idling at the curb. Barry hears talk, laughing, good-natured teasing and reminiscing as Len climbs in the passenger seat, chastises his partner in crime to put on his seatbelt, and the two criminals speed away in their (most likely stolen) steel blue Chrysler LeBaron. Barry watches from the doorway as the car zooms off, doing sixty-five in a residential zone, knowing he could lap them by a mile without breaking a sweat. They take the corner without stopping, speeding past the yellow ‘Slow, Kids Playing’ sign, and Barry chuckles dryly.

That’s his Len. He never changed.

Barry stands there until the sound of squealing tires fades into the distance and the wail of police sirens follow, taking a breath of Saturday morning air before he dons his red suit.

“Challenge accepted,” Barry says, pulling on his mask and flying out the door.


End file.
